Let Them Kneel (kaelani and Julian) novel Chapter 80

“Did I just go through the wall?” she breathed.

No time for questions.

She flew down the stairs, lungs seizing with every breath. There has to be an exit. There’s always an exit at the bottom.

Sunlight bled in from narrow wall slats, casting slivers of light across the spiraling concrete. Her shoes slapped the steps hard, heartbeat thundering in her ears.

Keep moving. Don’t look back.

A door above exploded open—then another. Snarls echoed down like a vicious chorus. She glanced up.

Wolves.

Dozens of them. Fangs bared and eyes wild. They swarmed down the stairwell in a frenzy, leaping over rails, charging downward like an avalanche of death.

Panic tore through her.

She pushed harder, faster, her legs screaming, feet barely touching each step. The bottom was close—had to be close—but the pounding of paws behind her grew louder. Closer.

Another floor passed in a blur. Then another.

Come on—

There. A red door.

She didn’t think, didn’t slow. She slammed her shoulder into the emergency exit bar, felt the crash of daylight burn her vision as it burst open. She stumbled into blinding sun.

Trees.

Tall. Endless. The Council grounds were buried deep in a stretch of woods she’d only ever seen on maps—territory guarded by the Lycan Council and untouched by human presence.

She staggered forward, forcing her legs into motion. If I can make it to the road… if I can get out of sight—

They wouldn’t dare chase her out in the open. Wouldn’t risk exposing themselves. Not to humans.

Not even for her.

A howl ripped through the air behind her.

She threw a look over her shoulder—mistake.

Wolves poured out of the door like a black tide, claws shredding dirt, eyes gleaming with intent.

They didn’t care about the rules.

They didn’t care about exposure.

They were coming.

And she had seconds—maybe less—before they caught her.

She tore through the woods like her life depended on it—because it did. Branches whipped past her face, thorns scraped her arms, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

The road had to be close. She needed it to be.

Behind her, the thunder of paws rumbled through the ground. They were gaining again. She could feel it—hear it—the crunch of leaves, the snarls, the snapping jaws closing in.

A shadow flickered.

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